Parsletongue
by Kaeim
Summary: After the disasterous events of the First Task, in which Harry used a secret gift that was unique to him, his path, once so obvious, changed. Now, with Dumbledore against him, Voldemort hunting him, and the secret forces of the world fighting, what next?
1. Facing the Dragon

**I in no way own Harry Potter, both books and films. Any fanfiction written by me is purely for my own and for other people's entertainment.**

'So...found out about the dragons, have you?'

Harry hesitated. He'd been afraid of this – but he hadn't told Cedric, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules.

'Its all right,' Moody said, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. 'Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been.'

'I didn't cheat,' said Harry sharply. 'It was – a sort of accident that I found out.'

Moody grinned. 'I wasn't accusing you, laddie. I've been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human.'

Moody gave a harsh laugh, and his magical eye swivelled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it.

'So...got any ideas on how you're going to get past your dragon?'

'No.' Harry said.

'Well, I'm not going to tell you,' said Moody gruffly. 'I don't show favouritism, me. I'm just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is –_ play to your strengths_.'

'I haven't got any,' Harry said, before he could stop himself.

'Excuse me,' growled Moody, 'you've got strengths if I say you've got them. Think now. What are you best at? What makes you stand out from the crowd?'

Harry tried to concentrate. What _was _he best at? Well, that was easy, really –

Harry opened his mouth, the words Quidditch on his lips before he realised something, closing them quickly. No, he couldn't claim to stand out from the crowd with Quidditch. He was already being seen of as a cheat by Hogwarts and the Wizarding world. No doubt, Krum would be using a broom as well. To be seen of as using the same technique as a champion, especially one who was world-renowned as the best seeker in the world, would make his situation much, much worst.

Slowly, he began to think more about what he was best at. Moody, who watched Harry grow deep in thought, remained silent, a harsh smile upon his lips as his single remaining eye watched Harry intently, the magical eye zooming around the room, checking for intruders or listening devices.

My reflexes...Harry thought, gained from the years spent with the Dursleys. A lifetime of dodging punches and stones from the younger Dursley of the family had installed within him a lifelong instinct of dodging, ducking and weaving. It was possibly the most useful thing that Dudley had ever done for him.

My bravery...a true Gryffindor, so many people have remarked upon that, nearly all of them saying that word in the same sentence as "your father". It was quite a blow against his own self-worth, if Harry was honest with himself. What person wanted to be associated with their father for the rest of his or her life? It was bad enough with the title "Boy-Who-Lived", which again was quite pathetic, as he was famous for surviving where other people hadn't. If you really thought about it, it was a shameful thing for Harry, that he had lived where his parents had not...where Sirius was arrested for the murder of his parents and sentenced unjustly for twelve long years in the cold, damp walls of Azkaban, populated only by the wicked, the mad and the Dementors.

So what was Harry good at? What did make him stand out from the crowd? His mind went through the events of his past years...flying with Buckbeak...his scar...his status...Lord Voldemort's nemesis... Suddenly, his mind halted at his second year at Hogwarts. The year when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and one of the most terrifying years of his life had taken place. Lord Voldemort's imprint of a spirit had come back to Hogwarts in the form of his old diary, possessing Ginny, Ron's youngest sister, and causing havoc in the school. At least four people had been petrified by the Basilisk, including one of his best friends, well, best friend really now, Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn student and one of the smartest witches in the entire school. Harry had been marked out because of his ability to speak _Parsletongue_, renowned for being one of the traits that the founding member of Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin. It was also known as what marked a dark wizard. Given Harry's past, it was obvious that this was both disturbing and terrifying for both Harry and Hogwarts.

Therefore, using it in the tournament would without a doubt make him stand out in the crowd. Of course, in doing so, it would cause the crowd to stand away from him. But now the idea had hit Harry, he found it very hard to release it. He chewed his lip nervously as Moody waited patiently. He didn't know what to do...was Parsletongue evil? And if so, did it make him evil? He'd never felt that he was evil, but could an evil person tell whether he was evil? He needed help...he quickly thought immediately of going to Dumbledore, before realising that as a tournament judge, he couldn't be seen to show favouritism and nor could he assist Harry with anything regarding the First Task. That instantly counted him out. He could go to Professor McGonagall, but could he honestly say that she would know how to help him with his Parsletongue problem? So who could help him? Flitwick? He didn't know the Professor well enough for that. Trelawney? Yeah, if he wanted to have several predictions of his death during the First Task thrown at him, then yeah. Snape? Well that would go down really well, wouldn't it(!) Suddenly, his mind snapped to the person in front of him. Could Moody help? It was said that he was a famous Auror, so he surely would've dealt with dark magic before. Perhaps he could help Harry! He had already given him help, even if he would deny it at every turn.

Harry looked up, focusing on Moody's one good eye, not wanting to look into the spinning glass eye that was quite sickening if you focused on it for too long.

'Professor Moody...' Harry hesitantly started.

'Have you thought of something, Potter? Come on then lad, spit it out!'

'Well...there is _one _particular thing that I know that I'm good at, and will be able to use without being accused of a cheat by everyone.'

Moody's face looked confused, but he waved for Harry to go on. 'Yes, go on.'

'Well...I need your advice on it. Is...is being a Parslemouth _evil_?'

Moody stared at him as for the first time that Harry ever met Moody, shock was spread across his face mixed with disbelief. Moody continued staring at Harry for a few seconds, before he broke out into a rusty old roar of laughter, pounding his knees with a fist. Harry watched in astonishment as Moody continued to roar with laughter for at least two minutes, before he calmed down sufficiently to be able to talk, wiping a tear from his eye.

'Oh...Merlin Potter, you slay me. Parslemouth's being evil...by the gods.' He shook his head in mirth, sitting up straight.

'So...' Harry looked at the floor in shame, 'being a Parsletongue _does _make me evil.'

'Great Gods no!' Moody yelled loudly, causing Harry to jump in surprise and shock.

'But – but you just said that –'

'Potter, I wasn't laughing because being a Parslemouth was evil, why, quite the contrary! Potter, I have met many wizards in my time, some of them great, others meek. Each person I met is as individual from the next person, but there is one thing you can count of them being. They follow one of the three paths of magic, whether they know it or not.'

'The three paths of magic?' Harry asked, confused.

For the second time that day, Moody stared at him in shock, disbelief spread over his face. 'Potter, are you telling me that you don't know what the three paths of magic are?' At Harry's hesitant nod of the head, Moody stood up, disbelief still on his face. 'Potter, are you seriously telling me that in the four years that you have been at Hogwarts, you have not heard a single word about the three paths of magic?'

Harry blushed slightly as he shook his head. 'I never really paid much attention in History of Magic, Professor Moody.'

'Don't be daft boy; the three paths of magic should at least crop up in each lesson at least once every month! What on earth are they teaching you at this school?' He looked at Harry intently. 'Potter, look me in the eyes and tell me truthfully whether you know for sure that you have never at least once been told about the three paths of magic?'

'Quite sure, Professor.'

'Dear Merlin...' Moody said, burying his head in his hands. 'I don't bloody believe this. There is no excuse whatsoever for the three paths of magic to not be taught in Hogwarts, let alone mentioned! What the hell has Dumbledore done to this old place, I ask you?'

Harry remained silent as Moody paced up and down his office, his face frowning in thought. He then looked at Harry, pulling out his wand and summoning a blackboard and a piece of chalk to him. Levitating the chalk with his wand, he walked to the side of Harry, writing at the top "The Three Paths of Magic".

'Potter, I admit that I didn't expect to be teaching today on a Saturday. However, I am willing to make an exception in your case because I believe that this single lesson that I will be teaching you will be more important than anything else that you've learnt before. I have little doubt that the same will apply to whatever you learn in the future.'

'Now, there are three types of magic. Dark, elemental and Light. Now, as you've no doubt guessed, Dumbledore is strictly for the light. If my guess is correct, and you can be damned sure it usually is, in not teaching the three paths of magic, his intention is to limit the students' knowledge to that of the Light path. Now, everything you've learnt so far in Hogwarts will be in the Light section. Dark magic, for example, involves the Unforgivable curses, which we've already covered earlier this term. Contrary to popular belief, there is no such thing as Grey Magic. You may only choose between Light and Dark, as to go down one path is to abandon the other. There are no half-measures, Potter; you may only go one way. An example of this would be our very own Headmaster and You-Know-Who. Dumbledore, as I have said before, is strictly light. There is no way that he could become Dark, even if he wanted too. He has practiced only light magic since leaving school, and to go down the Dark Path now would cause his magic to block up. In short, his magic would dissolve and he would be consumed by it, becoming twisted and something not of this world. The same would apply for You-Know-Who, but in this case, he has gone farther than the average Dark wizard. He had gone through several rituals expanding and consolidating his Dark magic. He, quite simply, is one of the greatest wizards to ever walk down the Dark Path, just as Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards to walk down the Light Path. I have to tell you, Potter, that it's a fortunate thing that the two of them decided to come about when the other did. I have little doubt that if there were but one of them, then our world would be greatly different from what it is today, and would reflect the private beliefs of either one of them.'

'Now, elemental magic is a very rare path, with only around 1 in a 100 wizards or witches having that power. With the low numbers that we have in our society, you can expect there to be perhaps 4 or 5 in every generation. They are perhaps one of the most mysterious kinds of wizards that we know of. You wouldn't what Path they followed either unless they told you themselves. Of course, it would be more difficult to conceal if you were young, perhaps around your age.'

'Do you have any questions so far?'

'Um...I have a few, Professor. Firstly, where are these elementals? And what power do they have?'

'Elementals have four individual paths they can follow, air, water, earth and fire. Their magic will always be suited to a single element, and to try to go down a path that you are not suited for would be along the same lines as a Light Wizard attempting to become a Dark Wizard. It is simply not possible. And as for where they are, well, no one really knows. All that we do know is that Hogwarts has been a messenger for elementals ever since the Founders. Should a witch or wizard be an elemental, then a letter is sent out with all the others to them. However, they are given different instructions and follow them accordingly. They are then sent off to a different school where they learn to control and use their powers wisely. I can tell you now that there has never been an elemental who has ever followed Dumbledore or You-Know-Who's path. They have been a silent part of our society, in public they may as well be witches and wizards, in private, however, they are elementals.'

'Professor,' Harry started hesitantly. 'I kind of get the impression that you're not too impressed with Dumbledore...why is that, exactly?'

'Potter, I want to say one first. Dumbledore is a great wizard in the light path, and always will be. He has my deepest respect, and should command the same from you. However, there has always and I mean always, been problems associated with wizards so deeply wrapped in Light and Dark power as Dumbledore is. People like him cannot help but interfere, attempting to change the world in a way that reflects their ideology. I don't say that it is his fault, but I do say that he causes a lot of problems. No one has ever truly understood why this happens, some believe it to be involuntary, others deliberately. One person who went down this route like Dumbledore, for example, would be Merlin himself. I assume you know about Merlin, correct?'

'Only a little, Professor. Before Merlin, Wizarding society was heavily divided, wizards were scattered, often remaining individualistic. Merlin shaped our society from being primitive and divided into one great nation under the Ministry of Magic. He stopped the constant wars between wizards, making us one people during a time when Muggles were beginning to turn against wizards.'

'That is correct, or so history would have you believe. Our society, before Merlin, was indeed primitive, divided into families and the odd clan. Wars were frequent, but not necessarily bloody. However, a balance had been achieved between wizards and Muggles. Wizards were very much linked to nature, often aiding ancient kings, peoples in the form of great buildings, military deeds and even agriculture. Muggles knew of the existence of wizards, and did not mind us. In fact, some Muggles chose to worship us in the old forms of pagan gods. However, when Merlin was around your age, he began to change all this. He took his family and travelled across all of Europe, forcibly separating the bonds between wizards and Muggles through diplomacy or simple force. The wizards, who had lost the familiarity and safety of their past, were defenceless in the face of Muggles, who had previously relied on wizards, turned against them as famine, warfare and disease broke out, most of it caused indirectly by Merlin's actions. The surviving wizards were forced by necessity to join the very man who had caused all of this. Under his tuitiage, wizards began to centralise into primitive nations, such as in Britain, the place where Merlin eventually retired and ruled. Therefore, Potter, despite the tales of the Good and Great Merlin who forged the Wizarding world as we know it today, he really forced a balanced society into discord, forcing them into his vision. Was he wrong to do so, Potter? I don't know, and we probably never will. But the moral of the story here, Potter, is that powerful wizards of Light and Dark Paths will never be content with their society, and will always try to change it. As Dumbledore did so after the Second World War when nearly every government was turned on its head, so did You-Know-Who attempt to do so during the most recent Wizarding War.'

'I have one last question, Professor Moody. You said that a wizard or witch can only be Light or Dark, but not Grey. What's to stop a wizard or witch from practicing both at the same time? Why can't he, for example, cast one Light Spell followed by a Dark Spell? And what about ordinary spells, like _Lumos_, or _Wingardium Leviosa_?'

Moody smiled. 'An excellent question, Potter. Yes, Dark and Light wizards can and do use ordinary spells. However, you must always, always remember that behind spells lies intent. Take for example the _Lumos_ spell. I could use that to see in the dark, or I could hold it to a person's eyes and permanently damage his eyesight. The true answer is that your magic simply will not allow it for you to maintain a balance between Light and Dark. Yes, you could attempt to do that, and it would most likely work for a short while. However, in the end, Light and Dark magic will fight for dominance. If both sides are equal in strength, then the magic will end up tearing itself apart in a bid for power, and then you've just made yourself a Squib. It is a dangerous game, Light and Dark. Tell me Potter, why do you think House Elves were domesticated?'

'For convenience?' Harry answered, baffled.

'It's because unlike wizards, House Elves are able to maintain the balance of Light and Dark. The very concept of being one or the other is impossible for them to understand! Dark Wizards have always used House Elves because as they delve into their brand of magic, they find their ability to use spells for common or "good" purposes to be reduced. Their magic isn't used to not being used for darkness. House Elves, once placed into service of a Dark Wizard, is used to the jobs they are unable to do!"

Harry sat back numbly, trying to process the information. 'Thank you Professor, it has been very interesting. But...what does this have to do with Parsletongue, exactly?'

'Parsletongue, Potter, is most commonly associated with the Dark Path. However, that is complete rubbish.'

Harry's face lit up. 'So are you saying that it is Light?'

'No, Potter. I am not.'

'But it surely can't be elemental, can it?'

'Again, no, Potter.'

'I...I don't understand.'

'Potter, tell me, what is so magical about talking to a snake? Yes, it's certainly unusual, and in some cases can incite panic, but in the end, it isn't magic at all. It is simply a gift that has been passed onto you somehow. In India, there are several snake-charmers who use music to communicate with snakes. In ancient Atlantis, Parsletongue was a very common trait amongst its inhabitants. Unfortunately, the majority of these peoples have either died out, or their trait has become so diluted that it only shows itself every so often amongst various generations. I would not be surprised, Potter, if you went through your family history and found no details of Parsletongue.'

'So...so you're telling me that there's no Light or Dark magic involved in speaking Parsletongue.'

'Treat it as a foreign language, Potter, that's all that it is in the end. Its only use is for talking to snakes, and as I personally am unable to talk to a snake, I cannot say whether the conversation is pleasant or not.'

Harry looked thoughtful for a few seconds. 'Professor, how can I use Parsletongue though in the First task? A snake won't exactly be much help to me, the size that it is, will it?'

'You've just answered your own question there, Potter. And the key word here is _size_.'

Harry's face brightened with comprehension. 'Ah! I understand now. Thank you Professor, thank you so much!' Harry's voice was bright with cheerfulness now that he had a direction to look for.

Moody nodded at Harry, a smile on his scarred face. As Harry turned to leave, Moody suddenly held up a hand. 'Potter, may I ask you a favour?'

'Anything sir,' Harry said brightly.

'I need your solemn oath that you will not talk of our conversation to anybody.'

'But...why Professor?'

'I would like to do some investigating, Potter, into just why the Three Paths are not taught at Hogwarts. Should you go telling everyone about it, people are going to ask questions about how you knew about it, and why they did not. Then Dumbledore will begin a cover-up, and the odds are that you won't see me again.'

Harry looked horrified. 'Professor! Surely you don't mean...'

'Remember, Potter. The actions of a person like Dumbledore will always be influenced by Light and Dark magic. It will do what it sees fit to do so. Now, do I have your oath?' At Harry's nod, Moody smiled. 'Just...be careful, Potter, eh?' Moody sounded slightly remorseful for a second before his voice became gruff again. 'Now then, be off with you!'

Harry, two days later, was sat at the breakfast table, both his and Hermione's eyes baggy with a lack of sleep. Ever since Harry had come back from Moody, he had enlisted Hermione's help and had spent practically the whole two days practicing. He had spent with Hermione practicing the engorgement charm, something that he was assured he ought to have learnt in third year. The rest of the time, away from Hermione's watchful eye, he had spent the rest of the time practicing the _Serpensortia _curse and talking to the snakes, interested in their opinions about his and their own lives. It turned out that the curse in fact stole many snakes from many different places. So far, the furthest place that Harry had summoned a snake from had been ironically from Brazil, the homeland of the snake that Harry had met almost directly before he left for Hogwarts. In his conversations with snakes, Harry had learnt one very important thing. No matter the species of the snake, each one was hugely proud of its species, and took offence at the slightest thing. More than once, Harry had been forced to banish a snake when he failed to address it in a manner which it felt it ought to be addressed. For the most part, Harry now catered to their wishes by referring to them with a tone of awe. Harry had also learnt another thing about the curse that he had never known before. In order to summon a snake that wasn't random, you had to picture the snake in your head along with its attributes. The scary thing was that in second year, Malfoy had summoned a deadly poisonous snake during the Duelling Club. Originally, Harry had passed it off as being luck and a random coincidence, but as Harry had learnt that you had to picture it directly, he knew now that Malfoy had been attempting to kill him. He was now much more wary of Malfoy, keeping his wand by him at all times, especially when he was in classes with Malfoy.

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him at the table, whether they were offering him good luck, or were sending hissed insults his way. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he might just lose his head when they attempted to lead him out to the dragon and start trying to curse everyone in sight around him. Time had been acting in a peculiar fashion, rushing past in huge blocks, skipping History of Magic and Divination in what felt like a few seconds to Harry. It only felt like a few hours ago that he had talked to Professor Moody, and now he was sat at the breakfast table, with only a few hours left between now and the time he would have to face down a dragon.

What if he failed? What if he panicked and forgot to cast the curse correctly? Hell, what if he had suddenly forgotten how to speak Parsletongue? He felt trembling in his arms, making the spoon he was holding rattle against the bowl of cereal. He tossed it down, hoping that no one had noticed. Luckily for him, no one had except for Hermione, who patted his arm with a comforting smile on her face. 'I'm screwed,' he whispered to her, feeling like the blood had drained from his face. Most likely it had. Hermione only smiled, and opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by another arm on his shoulder. When he looked up, he saw Professor McGonagall.

'It's time, Mr. Potter,' she said, a slight trembling in her own voice. 'The champions have to come down into the grounds now...you have to get ready for your first task.'

'Ok,' Harry said, standing up from the bench.

'You'll be fine Harry! Good luck!' Hermione whispered.

'Yeah,' Harry said in a voice that was much unlike his own.

He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself, either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione did. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

'Now, don't panic,' she said. 'Just keep a cool head...we've got wizards on hand to control the situation if it gets out of hand...the main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worst of you...are you alright?'

Harry suddenly saw Professor Moody walk behind her, obviously on his way to the First Task. Upon seeing Harry, he gave him a wink and a thumbs up before continuing on his way. Inexplicably, Harry felt cheered up and more confident. After all, if a wizard like Moody was confident in him, then surely he had a great chance against anything he came up against. He turned back to Professor McGonagall, smiling at her. 'Yeah...I'm alright. In fact, I'm great!' he smiled broadly at her.

Professor McGonagall appeared to be unconvinced for a few seconds, looking at Harry in concern, before dismissing whatever it was she was thinking. 'Very well then, Mr. Potter. As long as you know that you can always leave the First Task whenever you wish.'

'Yeah, I know. But you know what? I want to win this thing. I've just been given the chance of a lifetime to do something that doesn't require my title of the "Boy-Who-Lived" to get attention. I think that this'll prove once and for all that I'm my own person, not just what the Wizarding world believe I am.'

McGonagall smiled at that, before dismissing it quickly. 'Very good then, Mr. Potter. As your head of house, I wish you all the best in the task.' They stopped outside of the tent, and just before Harry walked inside the tent, McGonagall stopped him. 'Good luck, Harry.' She smiled at him once more before disappearing towards the stadium. Harry stood in front of the tent, taking a deep breath before entering. The three champions, already in the tent, looked at him, only Cedric offering a smile, before they turned back to whatever they were doing before. Harry sat down in the corner of the tent, staring at the ground, the incantation for the two spells that he hoped to only use in his repeating over and over in his head.

At what seemed to be no time at all, Bagman had already entered the tent, giving out the three dragons. Harry winced at the sight of the Hungarian Horntail, the most vicious and dangerous dragons out of the four of them. Sometimes, life hated him so much...the rules were quickly explained, he couldn't kill the dragon, and he couldn't cause any damage to the dragon eggs. He would have to capture the golden egg, and that was that. Points would be taken off for breaking any of the two rules, as well as taking injuries from the dragons. Very quickly, Cedric left the tent first, followed soon after by Fleur and then by Krum. Harry remained in the tent, listening with a pounding heart and a nerve-racking stomach. He felt like throwing up, he felt so awful... All of a sudden, Harry's name was called by Bagman, and without giving prior warning, Harry's body carried itself to the tunnel where at the end was a dragon and a huge crowd of people.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly coloured dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard floor. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do..to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance...

He raised his wand.

'_Serpensortia_!' Harry cried out. Out of the tip of his wand came a scaly long snake, hissing as it pulled itself together from where ever it came from. Upon seeing Harry, it hissed, reeling back. Around him, the noise from the crowd had stopped utterly, but Harry didn't notice. Instead, he walked up to the snake, crouching before it.

'_Greetings, glorious one,_' Harry hissed. The snake, about to strike reeled back in astonishment, its beady eyes regarding Harry.

'_You speak the blessed tongue?_' it hissed. Harry felt a wave of thankfulness that it chose to talk instead of attack.

'_Yes, I speak the blessed language of the snake. I offer you greetings, and my most sincere apologies for taking you from your home, but I brought you here to beg of you a favour._'

'_Tell me this favour, favoured speaker._'

'_I am to face a dragon, a mighty one. I could not defeat it alone, so I brought the mightiest thing that I knew of to defeat it._'

The snake hissed with pleasure, rattling its tail, pleased by the compliment. '_You are as wise as you appear to be, favoured speaker, but no amount of flattery may convince me that I am the mightiest. My fangs are only intended to freeze up bodies, not to kill them. You have brought the wrong creature, so perhaps you are not as wise as you appear to be. Hmm?'_

'_A clever assessment, glorious one, however, it is incorrect. I knew of what I brought, and I wished for you to come. The dragon in question is not to be killed, but to be paralysed as your fangs can only achieve.'_

'_You believe my fangs to be strong enough to take down a dragon? I find myself less and less impressed by your intelligence as the conversation continues, favoured speaker.'_ '_I agree that you cannot cause any real damage in the form that you are in. However, with your blessing, I would make you into a snake the size of the dragon itself, to give you an equal edge in glorious battle. Will you consent to it, mighty one?'_

The snake regarded Harry for a few seconds, before it nodded. _'It is acceptable. I welcome the prospect of battle with the famed dragon. It used to be only the mighty Basilisk could ever hope to engage a dragon and come away alive. If I manage to win, then I will be famed amongst snakes forever. Your agreement is acceptable; make me into a creature strong enough to destroy a dragon._'

Harry nodded, pointing the wand at the snake. 'Engorgio!' Harry said clearly. The snake started to hiss in aggravation as its body started to lengthen, its scales stretching and growing at the same time. It became larger and larger, soon towering over him, its scales glinting in the sun and its tongue glistening in the air as it darted out to taste the air.

'_Wonderful..._' The snake hissed.

'_I am glad you approve, glorious one. Now go fight for glory eternal!_' The snake hissed proudly as it slithered towards the dragon, who roared with anger as it felt the snake approach.

'_Come Great One, come face my wrath as I rip and tear you apart under my fangs. Come find out what it means to face down a true snake in open battle!_'

The dragon roared as it pulled against the chains, desperate to attack the snake. It kept tugging and tugging at the chains, roaring its hatred towards the snake as it drew closer and closer, Harry warily walking behind the snake at a safe distance. Within a few yards of the dragon, the snake hissed as it reared back, ready to strike. The dragon roared once more, just before it fired flames over the snake's midriff. The snake hissed loudly. To the people watching on the stands, all they heard was hissing, to Harry, however, he heard a terrible screaming. Harry winced visibly as he clapped his hands over his head.

The snake, still reared up, launched down, ignoring the gaping hole in its chest, black skin peeling off of it. Its teeth quickly latched to the base of the dragon's right wing, tearing at its ligament. The dragon roared with anger, biting its own teeth into the snake's body. The tail of the dragon battered into the snake that was still clinging onto the dragon's wing. It hissed as it released the wing, before striking again, this time directly at the dragon's neck. Luckily for the dragon, it missed by the slightest inch, but the snake's teeth lodged instead in the chest of the dragon. The dragon continued to bite at the snake, its own tail still bashing away at the snake, flinging it side to side as the snake resolutely held onto the dragon.

The battle between the two continued this way for several more minutes, the snake taking more grievous wounds on its body, several organs revealed to the world. Harry simply stood there, watching in awe and fright as the two battle it out. However, the snake's paralysis poison was clearly working as the dragon became more and more sluggish in its movements. The snake continued to strike at the dragon, its poison overwhelming the defences of the dragon. Finally, the dragon collapsed to the ground. The snake reared above it, its fangs ready to bite one last time into the unprotected neck of the dragon.

'_Stop!' _Harry yelled in Parsletongue, causing the snake to halt and look at Harry.

'_This is my right as the victor of this battle. I have the right to consume its flesh and finish the battle. You shall not stop me, you provided me with the tools for victory, do not expect me to toss them to one side before the battle is even complete._' The snake turned away, ignoring Harry's yells, and it launched down once onto the dragons neck. Harry turned away grimly as the snake hissed its victory. The audience was completely quiet, with sounds of vomiting coming occasionally from several areas. The snake then turned to Harry, ignoring the rapidly cooling dragon and its own personal wounds.

'_You will send me back now,_' the snake hissed. Without looking at it, Harry quickly shrank it before sending it back. Not looking at the dragon's body, he then walked over to the golden egg, grimacing slightly at the blood on it before he walked back towards the tent. Before he had got halfway, he began to hear yells.

'Murderer!'

'Dark wizard scum!'

'You're a traitor to your parents, Potter!

'Get out of Hogwarts!'

'Your parents would be ashamed of you!'

Harry ignored the words as more and more people started to yell insulting comments at him, before long a chant had erupted through the stands, everyone saying the same thing.

'Potter out! Potter out! Potter out! Potter out!'

Even as Harry entered the tent, before running away from the accusing stares of the other champions, up into the castle, in the Infirmary, collapsing onto a bed and helped warily by Madam Pomfrey, the chants rang loud and clears in his mind. Outside, the chanting was halted by Dumbledore ordering them to be quiet, but the chants continued in Harry's head.

Before long, people started to appear at Harry's bedside in the tent. Dumbledore was the first person to arrive. He sat down sadly onto the chair next to his bed, his blue eyes staring intently into Harry's own deep green eyes.

'Why did you do it Harry?' He whispered suddenly. Harry felt awful, as though he'd prefer to be shouted at rather than this. 'What on earth possessed you to choose this route?'

'I...what?' Harry asked in confusion.

'Your actions today will reflect badly upon you, my boy. Your use of Parsletongue in this task will be remembered for a long time, especially considering the international aspect of this year. You will be seen to be going down the same path that Voldemort did.' He leant in close. 'Explain yourself, please Harry.'

'But...but I didn't do anything!'

'Did you not speak Parsletongue?'

'Well...yeah, but so what?'

'You know that that is the language that Voldemort speaks. It is not wise, Harry, to draw his attention more. Nor is it wise to set yourself up as a Dark Wizard by speaking Parsletongue in front of hundreds of people!' He seemed to be ablaze with anger now. 'Harry, you now face a crossroads. I will not have another Tom Riddle on my hands, Harry; do not make me go down that path.'

Without another word, Dumbledore stood and left Harry. Not long afterwards, Hermione came inside with Ron, who glared at Harry. Harry saw Hermione exchange a look with Ron, before Ron dropped back to wait by the door, leaving Hermione to continue walking. As she approached, Harry smiled at her, that wasn't returned.

'Hey Hermione.' He said.

'Hello Harry.' She said rather stiffly.

'Are you alright?'

Hermione seemed to grow cold. 'Honestly, Harry? No, I'm not alright. I stayed with you, I always have. In your time of need, I promised myself to stick up for you, even to the point that I was lying to myself. Tell me, Harry, why didn't you tell me what you were planning when I was helping you carry out your _sick, sadistic plan_?'

Harry started at her in shock. 'Hermione...?' He reached out to hold her arm, only for her to jerk back.

'Why Harry? Why did you do it?' She started to yell at him, tears streaming down her face.

'Hermione, please!'

'Goodbye, Harry. I hope for your sake that you come back to us one day.' Turning on her heel, she joined Ron who opened the door for her, sending one last look of anger towards Harry, before he disappeared as well.

Harry stared at the wall in shock...they...they had abandoned him. He was on his own again...Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione had turned against him...he was alone...

Suddenly, the door opened one last time and Moody walked inside, smiling grimly at him.

'Potter, well done lad on your victory. A very good one, in my opinion!' He chuckled grimly, before noticing Harry's look. 'What's wrong lad?'

'They...' Harry found it hard to form words. 'They abandoned me...'

'Who did, Potter?'

'Hermione...Dumbledore...they said I was dark...that I wasn't with them any longer. Professor, you told me that I wasn't evil, but I am, I must be! They must've done it for a reason, I'm bad...I'm not worthy...what did I do wrong?' He looked at Moody, sadness etched all over his face. 'Please, Professor, what did I do?'

Moody came closer to Harry, holding him by the shoulder. 'Lad,' he started grimly. 'As you grow older, changes take place. Friends come and go, people turn out different than you previously believed. But remember this, Harry. You will always be yourself. I will look after you...I promise.'

It was at that moment that Harry knew that he would always be safe around Moody as Harry smiled sadly at Moody, burying his head in the man's shoulder. Moody smiled grimly over Harry's shoulder, a touch of ginger hair slowly appearing on his head. He sighed as he thought of what his master would use the boy for...it was a harsh life, and if he was honest, he felt some sympathy for the lad. But, the Dark Lord had to triumph. He would rule, and Barty Crouch Junior would rule by his side, loyal to the end for the Dark Lord.


	2. The Third Task

**The Third Task**

Harry walked with a noticeable caution through the maze. The chanting of the crowd could only faintly be heard by Harry's open ears as he listened primarily for any traps or creatures that lay ahead of him. More than ever, Harry wanted to win this bloody tournament, if not for revenge, then for promised glory. He was owed it; did he not have to give up his friends and his supposed innocence to the rabid packs of school children? Ever since the First Task, and the disastrous tactics he used, everyone in the schools ignored him or rejected him.

It was a regular occurrence these days to find in his bed traps and animals like flobberworms, designed to infuriate and creep him out. The only affect that had on him was an increased sense of paranoia. He found himself often passed over in class when he tried to answer questions, or his class-work was rejected or given only an Acceptable. Even Professor Dumbledore had been noticed by some observant people to regard Harry with a suspicious eye, absent of the customary twinkle that seemed to exist 24/7. Only Professor Moody, or Alastor, so he had been told to call him in private, treated him fairly as he ever did.

Professor Moody had been one the best things that had ever happened to Harry, he often thought. Ever since the abandonment of his friends, Harry had found himself going more and more to Alastor, often staying long past curfew in his company, discussing various topics such as what made magic good or bad, and the supposed elementals. And not only had they simply stuck to theory, but Alastor had encouraged the use of practice as well, telling Harry to practice a particular spell in preparation for the next day.

And so Harry's life at Hogwarts had basically continued along that scale. Harry drifted through class, feeling burning stares from his classmates, while constantly watched by his teachers. It wasn't until the night-time that Harry truly showed himself, his anger fuelling his spells as he fired them rapidly at targets that had been set up by Alastor for when he felt like a bit of target practice. Of course, Moody had informed him, Harry would never fully be able to use the destructive spells that the Dark side offered, but even so, the Light did offer some alternatives. It was thanks to Dumbledore and his policy of "light spells only", that Harry and countless other wizards and witches who had passed through Hogwarts would only ever been able to use light magic. They weren't even given the illusion of choice. No doubt, only a few would ever take the dark path, most likely those from Slytherin with pureblood parents whose families had joined Voldemort.

_'Reducto_!' Harry suddenly fired a spell towards a animated metal knight, armed with sword and shield. The spell bounced off of the shield that the knight held protectively in front of its torso, before it advanced towards Harry.

_'Reducto_…_Incarcerous_!'

The first spell went towards the knight, aiming at its head, which the knight then blocked with ease. However, it had left its bottom half of the body unprotected, which Harry had taken advantage of. The ropes conjured by Harry wrapped themselves around the legs of the knight. An attempted step forward later, and the knight had fallen onto the ground, where Harry dispatched it quickly with another _Reducto_ to the head. Already, Harry had taken down two other animated features like this. If this was the most that the school could offer, then they may as well have extended the competition to fourth years. He hadn't used anything that hadn't been covered, or wasn't available to students in the library.

As Harry continued on, quickly avoiding several other creatures that he hadn't any desire to combat, having the sense to save his magical energy, his thoughts slipped into one of the lessons that Alastor had taught him.

Within a few seconds though, he banished his thoughts just as a large snake leapt out one of the hedges, a quick banishing spell throwing it back through the hedge. A second after the snake had been banished; a loud shrill shriek hit Harry's ears with all the force of a bludger. He winced, realising the scream had come from the other side of the hedge, where presumably the snake had been sent through. Probably it had been the French Veela that had been ambushed by the snake. He briefly considered going to assist her, before ruthlessly crushing the thought. After all, Alastor had installed a clear message into him; do not help those who cannot be helped. Before this damned year, Harry would have disregarded this automatically, and rushed off to help Fleur. Of course, the Harry now had been robbed of his innocence a long time back, starting from the time he had been left at the Dursleys.

'The French,' Harry sighed, shaking his head as he peered around another corner, before moving on. 'They lost at Agincourt, they lost at Waterloo, and they're going to lose at Hogwarts.' He smirked slightly, his green eyes taking in as much as they could, watching out for any other creatures that would leap out all of a sudden.

It soon seemed that in almost no time at all, Harry soon found himself running down a maze towards where a bright light shone, presumably where the cup in the middle of the maze was. In front of him was Cedric Diggory, who with the advantage of longer legs, was running ahead of him, while Krum, sporting a leg wound, presumably from one of the many traps or animals in the maze, was behind Harry, hobbling after the two Hogwarts Champions.

Cedric suddenly made it through the narrow passageway of the maze, breaking through into the enclosure of the maze's centre. He ran for the cup, his arms outstretched when suddenly, Harry's voice echoed through the maze.

'Incarcerous!'

A group of ropes quickly fired out of Harry's wand, hitting Cedric's legs and causing him to fall heavily onto the ground. Harry quickly passed Cedric, his eyes focused on the prize, sprinting forward when suddenly, he halted at the sound of a spell.

'Crucio!'

Cedric suddenly began to scream, Harry turned around, the world around him acting in a slow fashion, as though time itself had slowed down in reaction to the Unforgiveable. As he turned around fully, he saw Cedric, jerking and shaking on the ground, as though he were having a fit. His mouth and eyes were wide opened as he screamed terribly, shaking in the throes of what would probably be one of the most terrible pain's he would ever feel. The red light that surrounded Cedric's body, that was causing the pain, was connected by a thin line that led to the wand of no other than Viktor Krum, the champion for Dumstrange. His mouth was open in an animalistic growl, his teeth bared.

'Stupify!' Harry yelled, his wand suddenly pointing at Krum. Almost immediately, Krum fell to the ground, unconscious. Without the will and the magic coming from its master, Krum's wand fell to the ground next to Krum. Cedric continued to shake, however, despite the disappearance of the red light. Harry walked calmly over to him, checking him over. He was in no condition to continue any further.

Harry quickly fired off a small series of red sparks, before turning quickly as the wind picked up. He briefly considered the two bodies on the ground, before nodding in satisfaction as the wind seemed to whip around them both, and they both disappeared. He briefly wondered whether Fleur had made it past the snake, or if she had been taken down. He shrugged, either way, she had lost the competition. And Harry was now the champion.

Harry turned and picked up the cup, before a whooshing feeling seemed to surround Harry and transport him. Harry frowned as he felt himself begin to disappear. Was this part of the Triwizard tournament? His thoughts went unanswered as Harry suddenly disappeared from the maze.

'Agh!' Harry grunted in pain as Voldemort, almost softly, caressed the scar on his forehead. A great, terrible blaze of pain, all focused on little zig-zag on his forehead, erupted through Harry's head. Through the pain, he recognised the symptoms of an upcoming migraine. Voldemort tutted as he withdrew his white, bony finger, looking at Harry almost in disappointment.

'Ahh, Potter, surely you out of everyone, the Child of Light, ought to be able to handle a little pain, no? Have you not had the fabled training from Albus Dumbledore, as many people believe? Surely you've been tutored in the highest of magic? Surely you have mastered the _light_?' A cold smile grew on Voldemort's almost scaly-white skin. 'Come, boy, why do you cry so loud? You should be resolute! You should be filled with righteous anger! You should be free of your bonds by now, and with the light of justice that you and yours love so, you should have cast me and my loyal Death Eaters to the ground and have banished me once again to the wilderness. So come, Potter, where is the great magic that you have mastered by now?'

Harry, panting heavily, stared with hatred at Voldemort. 'Fuck you!' he growled at Voldemort. He suddenly tried to spit at Voldemort, but instead, a trickle of spit hung from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Voldemort's head leant back as he laughed loudly at Harry, several of the Death Eaters who surrounded Harry and Voldemort joining in, their deep laughter rumbling through the graveyard in contrast to Voldemort's own high pitched voice.

Voldemort suddenly stopped laughing, the Death Eaters quickly following suit. His slitted eyes regarded Harry with mild interest, surpassed by a deep anger in his voice. 'Don't tell me that the old man hasn't even bothered to try and teach you his magic?' Harry remained silent, only for Voldemort to throw his head back and laugh bitterly, caressing his wand. 'All this time, I was thwarted by no other than a simple child? A child who had nothing? Nothing?' Voldemort screamed the last word in anger, the laughter having steadily drained away with each word. His Death Eaters had all fallen silent, their masked faces turned towards the ground, as though they feared Voldemort's wrath would turn towards one of them.

Voldemort's hand suddenly lashed out, slapping Harry with force. Harry winced from the blow, blood dripping out of the side of his mouth. He gingerly prodded his teeth with his tongue, feeling some of the teeth wobble. He groaned mentally as he felt one of the teeth hanging by a small chunk of his bloody gum. A tiny bit more pressure on his gum, and he'd be missing one.

Voldemort suddenly smiled coldly as a pop announced the arrival of another person. The newly arrived dark robed Death Eater approached Voldemort, falling on his knees in subjection as Voldemort turned to face him. 'But of course,' Voldemort went on, turning slowly and looking in the eyes of each individual Death Eater. 'Potter here did receive some training of course. Unfortunately for him, the training was far to late, and the person training him was of course, very different to who Potter actually believed he was learning from.'

Harry's eyes snapped up, looking at Voldemort. What did Alastor have to do with this? Voldemort turned to face the kneeling Death Eater, his bony fingers holding onto the chin of the Death Eater, pushing his head up slowly. Voldemort smiled at the Death Eater as he lifted him to his feet, before turning him to face Harry. 'Tell me, Crouch, what do you think of our guest?'

Crouch smiled, the masked face staring into Harry's own. 'Weak, my lord. I see nothing but weakness.' Crouch's voice was cold and emotionless. Harry's mind was whirling, what was Barty Crouch doing here? Wasn't he meant to have disappeared? And before that, didn't Percy say he was ill, at home? How long had he been helping Voldemort for, since the start of the Tournament? Before?

Voldemort smirked at Harry, staring deep into his eyes. 'Oh, poor Potter, he seems confused. I do believe that he thinks that Barty Couch Senior is behind all of this?' He turned to face Crouch. 'Barty, my loyal servant, do show our esteemed guest your true features.'

'With pleasure, my Lord.' With deliberate slowness, the man raised his wand to his face, and brushed it over his mask. Harry gaped with sudden shock as the mask dissolved and revealed the face of his teacher and mentor, Alastor Moody.

'You?' Harry stared at Moody, his mouth open in shock. 'But you...you taught me this year? You showed me new magic! You taught me loads!'

Moody smiled, his gnarled mouth grinning at him. 'Come off it, Potter,' the usual harsh tone snapped at him. 'Do you honestly think that any training that I, or any other, for that matter, would help you defeat the Dark Lord? Your arrogance knows no end! He is the greatest magic user who ever existed. Even Dumbledore with his magic can't stand up to the Dark Lord in a battle! And as for lessons? I stand by my words,' Moody's voice started to change. 'You should have been taught these things beforehand. As far as I'm concerned, it's yet another failing of Dumbledore and a attempt to change the world to suit him and him alone. We will put an end to his madness, though, Potter, make no mistake of that. We will make him pay for what he did to us!' Harry watched in rapt shock as Moody changed before his very eyes. His fake eye popped out, his teeth began to change and the scars that made up Moody's face began to change into that of a young man. The fading hair suddenly turned ginger and Moody now took on an entirely new appearance. Harry's eyes widened as he recognised the man from the pensive memory.

'You!' Harry blurted out. 'You're Barty Crouch Junior! But you died in Azkaban! They buried you!'

Crouch Junior sneered. 'I'm looking rather well for a corpse then, ain't I, Potter? Although having to spend time in that god forsaken body may as well have been murder! You have no bloody idea how hard it was to adjust to a wooden leg, and an eye that doesn't even work properly!' He spat phlegm on the ground, his now normal eyes staring at Harry. 'I will admit though, giving you lessons did provide me with some small measure of entertainment, and you did show some promise. If only you weren't chained to that old bastard, you would've been great in the ranks of the Dark Lord!'

Voldemort turned to Crouch, 'would you say the boy is stronger than he used to be then?'

Crouch nodded eagerly, looking at Voldemort with rapt attention. 'With respect lord, he would be roughly at the same level as a sixth year at Hogwarts, although coming from that perspective, it isn't saying much at all.'

'I see,' Voldemort looked at Harry with interest. Suddenly, he raised his wand at Harry. _'Diffindo_!' The ropes that surrounded Harry suddenly fell, having been cut by Voldemort's spell. 'Wormtail!' Voldemort barked, beckoning the small man to him. 'Throw Potter's wand to him.' Wormtail did so, throwing it at Harry's feet. Harry immediately snatched it up from the ground, pointing it protectively at Voldemort. Voldemort smirked evilly, as he stalked around Harry in a circle, Harry turning around with Voldemort, keeping his body towards him all the time

Suddenly, a jet of black light fired from Voldemort's wand. Harry instinctively leapt out of the way of the spell.

_'Reducto_!' The ground just to the left of Harry suddenly exploded. Harry flung a arm over his face, feeling several pieces of dirt impacting against his arm. _'Crucio_!' Harry suddenly began screaming, his back arching as he began to spasm. Voldemort regarded Harry with his cold red eyes, a smile on his face as he kept the curse on Harry. He kept it on for a mere five seconds, yet to Harry, a second felt like an eternity. Voldemort chuckled darkly, turning to face Crouch.

'I thought that you said you had trained the boy well, Barty. He does not seem to be doing so well.

No emotion on his face, Crouch replied to Voldemort. 'My Lord, in comparison to you, no one can ever defeat you. He is just a boy, even with a hundred years of training; he would easily fall to you.'

_'Reducto_!' Harry suddenly fired a spell in Voldemort's direction.

Voldemort easily battered away the spell with a shield. 'My my, it seems this little rabbit has fangs. Firing on your enemy when he's distracted...how Slytherin of you, Potter. How unbecoming of a Gryffindor. I was led to believe that you simply charged in and hoped to succeed where others failed. No doubt luck has treated you well over the years. But I assure you, Potter, luck has deserted you today.'

With a flick of his wand, several spells were fired from Voldemort's wand, blasting the ground around Harry. Only Harry's natural abilities hard-earned through Quidditch practice enabled him to avoid the worst of the scratches. Even so, Harry had a nasty scratch from a stone splinter that had cut across his cheek, and there were several other smaller scratches on his arms and face. Harry quickly found himself cover, watched by the assembled Death Eaters who circled the duel between him and his master closely, ensuring that Harry wouldn't be able to escape. As Voldemort continued to fire spell after spell at him, Harry continued to dodge the spells, using the gravestones as cover. Of course, the cover available to him continued to grow smaller and smaller as Voldemort continued to fire at where Harry hid, playing with him. It wasn't long before Harry found himself hiding behind one of the last few gravestones. Between him and Voldemort was the cauldron where Voldemort had been reborn in the unholy ritual.

'We are not playing hide-and-seek, Potter,' Voldemort said, his cold voice, almost crooning at Harry softly, drew near. A few Death Eaters chuckled, still circling Harry, drawing closer and closer in their circle, leaving Harry with less and less space in which to move. 'You cannot hide from me. Does this mean that you don't want to duel anymore? Are you going to let down your teacher, Potter? Come, I'm sure that Barty here is rather upset with your limited performance. Does this mean that you give up, Potter? Shall I finish it now? I promise you, Harry, I will make it quick. I have little intention of prolonging the duel. One simple curse, and it can be all over, Harry. The dirty looks, the accusations, the terror when you approach. To those pitiful minds, you are the Big, Bad Wizard, Harry. But you don't have to be anymore. Would you like to see your mother and father again? I have little doubt they're waiting for you. I would not know...I have never died.'

Harry crouched behind the headstone, knowing instinctively that his time was up. Lady luck had indeed left him. There was no hope, and no help to be had. As the Death Eaters drew closer, Harry knew one thing only, one thing beyond reason or fear. If he was to die, this day, then he would be damned if he died on the ground, his wand at his feet. He would die like his parents did. He gripped his wand tightly in his hand and walked out behind the headstone.

_Avada Kevada_!' Voldemort yelled as soon as Harry had come out of hiding. Harry unconsciously swallowed as he ducked. Voldemort turned his wand to where Harry now stood, just a pace from where the curse had impacted. Harry raised his own wand just as Voldemort said the fatal words. All sounds seemed to die away as Harry used the first spell he could think of, the first spell that he never imagined himself using.

'_Avada Kevada_!' Both Harry and Voldemort seemed to roar silently. Two green flashes of light erupted from each other's wands, firing towards each other. The two green lights shot at their opponent, before suddenly colliding with one another over the cauldron. All at once, several things happened. The two green lights, still connected with their respective wands appeared to flash, and as though growing hotter turned a stale harsh white. Harry's eyes screwed up as they struggled to maintain their sight. A great heat seemed to wash over his skin, and sweat beads appeared on his forehead, dripping down his face, stinging where they fell. Beneath the stark light, another light began to rise. A black light, but seemingly more fresh and wholesome than the light above it, it began to leak into the white light, turning and changing it, binding itself around the light. It seemed to pulse, the two colours, they seemed to be willing to accept each other, but refused to allow themselves to mix. The light was one of black and white together, Ying and Yang, Harry noted with faint amusement.

Suddenly, the light began to expand, growing larger. The two colours began to split up, dividing itself into tentacles. Cries of panic rose from the Death Eaters as the two lights seemed to dive towards them. Instantly, one of the Death Eaters touched by the white light began to visibly grow old, his hands turning wrinkled and old. Veins began to bulge out. More disturbingly, the flesh visibly began to rot away, flesh disappearing and bone replacing the sight. The Death Eater began to crumple, turning into a skeleton. The robes folded around him as it fell to the floor, the bones visibly beginning to turn yellow.

The black light, however, was doing precisely the opposite. The Death Eater it touched began to turn younger and younger. Soon, no more than a little baby appeared, and it still grew younger still. After a second, its tummy button began to bulge and an umbilical cord exploded out. The baby grew smaller, blood appearing over the baby as it grew smaller, and more parts began to disappear. The foetus soon became tiny, disappearing from human sight as it disappeared back into the far past.

As the Death Eaters all frantically disapparated, Voldemort and Harry continued to hold on. The strands of lights seemed to caress both Voldemort and Harry, the two of them frantically holding on to their wands with as much force as possible as the wands vibrated frantically in their hands. However, an aching pain in Harry was growing stronger. Inside, he knew what the cause of it was. He had used Dark Magic, something that Moody/Crouch had warned him about, especially with his tendency towards Light Magic thanks to Dumbledore. The pain would steadily grow; his magic reacting to the foreign substance that he had dared attempt. It wouldn't be long before the pain caused him to lose his control over his body, as the pain would overwhelm his nerve and sense. If this kept up, he would be destroyed.

Already, he could feel his grip starting to slip. All of a sudden, his wand slipped from his sweaty hand, and the connection broke from his wand. He winced, throwing his arms in front of him in a futile protection, expecting the light to surround and destroy him. But it didn't happen. To Harry's shock, the two lights seemed to act angrily, the tentacles thrashing around in madness. It threw itself at Voldemort, whose eyes widened in terror before he disapparated. Harry gasped as the light seemed to calm down, starting to surround him slowly. Two tentacles, one black and one white reached out, caressing his cheeks. The Portkey cup suddenly appeared in front of him, seemingly been placed there by the light. In the distance, Harry could hear a song in a language that he had never heard before. Transfixed, he made no attempt to stop the light as it pushed the Portkey onto him.

**Long time no update, eh? Well, I'm back, I guess. Lets see how this goes. For those who remember this story from long ago, you may want to reread the first chapter where I've made some changes. For those with really good memory, you may remember there being a third chapter. For now, that's been ret-conned until I have another look at it and decide what I want to do. For those new readers, I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far!**

**As ever, please review and let me know what you think! **


	3. Why So Sirius?

**Why so Sirius?**

**So, I've decided to redo this chapter, there were some things I wasn't happy with it. You'll find I usually end up doing that based on recommendations from my reviewers, so I usually redo chapters after a couple of days based on feedback I've got.**

**Please read and review as per usual! All your support and suggestions will hopefully end up making an appearance into the story.**

Harry, to put it mildly, was bored out of his mind. Idly, he resumed kicking the headboard of the bed he had been lying on for several days now. It had been three days since his battle with Voldemort, and almost immediately after having been portkeyed back to Hogwarts; he had been taken to Sirius' house where he had been all but forgotten.

Sirius, upon seeing Harry for the first time had been all but a mess, hugging him so tight that Madam Pomfrey almost had to pry them apart with her wand, squawking about the fragile state of his ribs. It had taken her less than ten minutes to heal him back to a state in which he could walk unassisted, but even so Madam Pomfrey had insisted on at least a week's worth of rest, considering that he would not be spending time in the Hospital Ward.

Dumbledore had seen to that. When Harry appeared at the champion's podium in the middle of a cheering crowd with blood all over his body, the cheers of the crowd had briefly turned to shocked silence and muffled screams, before the inevitable talking and gasping began. The cameras had begun flashing almost instantly afterwards, although Harry had not yet seen a copy of a newspaper, he had little doubt that he would appear on the front pages of the Daily Prophet for at least a week, if not more. Information had been scarce, to say the least. Dumbledore had seen fit to avoid all contact with him. No letters had arrived from anyone, Hedwig hadn't found him yet, and Sirius had remained defiantly silent on the matter, although guilt was easily visible upon his face whenever Harry asked him a question.

Annoyed, he kicked the headboard savagely once again, this time hearing a loud crack as the wood split after enduring repeated blows from Harry's feet. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, Harry growled and sat up, rubbing life back into his legs before standing up gingerly, feeling the blood rush back into his legs in a sudden rush. Hobbling slowly towards the door, Harry was gratified to find that at least the door was not locked, something which at this point he wouldn't have put past Dumbledore considering his recent actions concerning him.

Harry found himself in a long hallway. Randomly choosing to go right, Harry passed a series of doors, most of which were either locked or were empty. As Harry wandered around, he noted to himself idly that there was no sign of life around. Dust surrounded the entire place, untouched and thick in most places. It seemed that no one had been around or through the place for a long time. Harry suddenly paused by another door, glancing above the doorframe where writing was presented in small scribbly letters that caused Harry to strain his eyes before he was able to make out the words 'The Black Library'.

The door swung open easily to Harry's touch, revealing a room of darkness, the light from the hallway only hinting at a vast room. Harry automatically reached for his wand, cursing himself mentally when he realised that he'd left it in his room. He debated for a few seconds whether to go back for it or not before shrugging as he entered the library. Harry screwed up his eyes and threw his arm over his head as the room suddenly flashed full of light, momentarily blinding him. Blinking furiously, Harry looked around as he took in the room around him.

The room itself was circular, with huge bookshelves packed with books circled all around its walls. At the very least, Harry estimated that thousands of books lay within the library. In the middle of a room was a solitary table and chair that faced a tapestry. Walking closer, Harry began to make out names. Feeling his legs begin to protest at the constant standing, Harry pulled the chair out and sat down before examining the tapestry further. Hundreds of names were everywhere on the tapestry with lines connecting each and every one of them. As Harry stared at the tapestry, he realised that numbers were written in underneath the names. With a sudden guilty pleasure, Harry realised that the tapestry was in fact a family tree that went back hundreds of years.

"Like what you see, Harry?" a voice suddenly echoed through the room. Harry jumped to his feet, startled, as he whirled around to see Sirius in the doorway, leaning against its side as he watched Harry with a small smirk on his face.

"Sirius! I…uh…"

"Decided to go for a walk? Don't worry Harry; I was the same way when I was first came here. It does tend to become very boring here after a while, although I wish you had told me beforehand so I could have at least had the pleasure of giving you a tour of the place. Believe me, although repulsive for the most part, my family's history can be very interesting. Although I have to admire you Harry, you came to the one place which I've yet to look through completely; I do tend to find books incredibly tedious."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry Sirius, I didn't really think about it."

"Ah, its fine." Sirius also looked unsure of what to say, choosing to look around the mountain of books instead. A moment passed in which neither Harry or Sirius said anything. Finally, Sirius turned to Harry. "Do you want to come get something to eat?"

The smell hit him instantly when Harry entered the kitchen. Unlike most of the house, the kitchen had absolutely no dust anywhere, while the smell of spices "Would you mind helping me with the food, Harry?" Sirius asked as they entered the kitchen. Like most other rooms in the house, the kitchen was huge. In the middle of the room lay a huge table, while on the sides sat ancient looking ovens.

"Sure, Sirius. What do you need me to do?"

Sirius quickly paused from pulling out a frying pan to look at Harry, "You can cook, right?"

Harry smirked slightly, thoughts of the Dursleys briefly appearing. "Yeah. I can cook."

Sirius smiled at Harry before he returned back to pulling out kitchen items. "Can you go into the pantry and get some eggs and bacon?"

Harry nodded towards Sirius' back. He quickly scanned the room before heading towards the only other door in the kitchen. He opened it, only to shiver slightly as a cool breeze swept over him.

"My parents were very traditional in how they chose to live," Sirius called to Harry. "Before I went to Hogwarts, me and my brother would be awoken by House Elves at six every morning, dressed and ready for breakfast at seven. We would only ever see our parents at mealtimes, the rest of the time we would be expected to spend either studying or practicing our magic."

"You had a brother?"

"I did."

Harry found the eggs in a Muggle carton, its cartoonish drawings marking it very out of place amongst the other foodstuffs. The pantry was full of food. Meats were hanging from the ceiling, lamb, pig, beef and other meats that Harry couldn't identify filled the air, while tins of food, the majority of them Muggle, were stacked on shelves. Put together, Harry would wager that there was enough food there to last Sirius months, if not years. "Sirius? Where's the bacon?"

"Ah, hang on for a moment Harry!" Sirius entered the pantry a minute later holding a large knife and a plate in his hands. He walked up to a piece of meat hanging from the ceiling and began to expertly carve the meat from the bone. "After I escaped from Azkaban, this was the first place I came to. Home." He snorted as he carved off another piece. "There was a saying that your mother once told me, Home is where the Heart is. From my experience, that's one of the truest statements I've ever heard. My heart was never in this place. I despised coming back here from Hogwarts. I never came back for Christmas, and when I was fifteen I made damn well sure that I never had to come back again. Even now, I still hate this place with all my heart. When I came back home after my first year at Hogwarts, my father summoned me to his study for his first and his only real conversation he ever had with me. He told me of the purity of the blood, and what was expected of me now I'd begun my education at Hogwarts. He warned me from being friends with a mangy werewolf, a blood traitor and a worthless peon. Well, he got the last part right at least." Sirius nodded with satisfaction as he carved another slice of meat. "That'll do, I think. Bring the eggs, Harry."

Harry followed Sirius into the kitchen where already two pans were on the oven, small flames underneath them. Sirius threw the bacon onto one of the pans where it began to satisfyingly sizzle. Sirius then took two of the eggs from Harry, cracked them and placed them into the other pan.

"The last time I saw my father was when I being prepared for a trial for the deaths of your parents. I was being held in the Ministry of Magic's top security cells, guarded day and night by Hitwizards who were praying for a chance to put down the infamous Sirius Black. Even so, I was still entitled to visits from family members, not that I honestly expected any of them to turn up. However, the day before my trial was to begin, my father entered the room and with a single word, had my guards leave me and him alone. He then smiled at me. You have to understand, this was my father. He believed in nothing but tradition and purity. For him to smile was to break every rule I had grown to understand during my childhood. He congratulated me for having killed my best friends, but scolded me for having been caught. He offered me the full resources that the Blacks could muster. He offered me the best lawyers that money could buy. He offered to pay off the court to sentence me to the lightest sentence they had that would have seen me in minimum security cells for a mere five years. Most of all, he offered me a way back into the family I had rejected. If I didn't, he hinted he could make life very difficult for me, even more than it was at the time, anyway. Naturally, I told him to piss off."

A laugh burst out of Harry's throat, the serious mood disappeared in an instant. Sirius flipped over the bacon using a knife, nodding slightly at the texture and colour of the bacon. "As a result, I believe that he arranged for me not to receive a trial, and instead had me thrown into the depths of Azkaban – a swift and easy way to ensure that the 'White' sheep of the family be concealed out of sight for now and forever."

Sirius began putting food onto the plates, "So Harry, you've gotten to know me a little bit better. Can I ask you what happened during the Third Task?"

Harry involuntarily flinched; the thoughts of what happened flooded back into his mind. Seeing that, Sirius rapidly backtracked, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't –"

"No," Harry interrupted. "It's fine. I guess it had to be told sooner or later."

As Sirius and Harry ate, the topic turned from the third tournament to the events of the entire fourth year, from Ron's refusal to be friends with Harry anymore, to the terrifying event of the first task, to Barty Crouch's help and finally to the battle between Harry and Voldemort. Harry talked for several hours, his throat often threatening to go hoarse if not for the constant supply of tea that Sirius provided. Finally, when Harry finished, Sirius sat back and breathed out heavily.

"That's quite an eventful year."

"You're telling me," Harry murmured as he ran his hands through his hair, an action which caused Sirius some minor amusement.

"Unfortunately, a lot of what you've been told is absolute rubbish."

"Sirius?"

"What Crouch told you. Some of it was true, correct, but he left out a major part. It sounds like he was trying to persuade you into learning Dark Magic. All that rubbish about 'intent' behind magic. Yes, you need to have intent in order to use magic, but intent doesn't dictate what is or isn't good or bad. Look, Wizards can become good or dark magical users, but that doesn't mean there aren't some magics which all wizards and witches can use. For example, I could use a cleaning spell just as much as Voldemort could, were he so disposed to do so. There are some spells which only a dark wizard or a light wizard could use, but there is a middle ground which the vast majority of wizards use."

Harry blinked in confusion, "I…I don't quite understand."

Sirius laughed, "That's magic for you. It's a subject which much has been written, but little is known.

Sirius suddenly turned serious. "But in all my years, I've never heard magic react the way it did with you and Voldemort. The way you describe the battle, it sounds like your combined magic took on a life of its own, and that should be impossible."

"So…what do I do?"

Sirius shrugged, "I guess we take this to Dumbledore. If anyone would know, he would."

Harry squirmed, "No offence, Sirius, but Dumbledore has done nothing for me all year. He didn't help me during the tasks, he didn't help me leave the tournament and he didn't help me when I came back from fighting Voldemort for the second time in three years. No offence, Sirius, but if this year has taught me anything, it's that I need to stand on my own feet. I want to work this out on my own."

Sirius appeared startled for a few minutes, before nodding. "If that's what you want to do, then I'll help you in any way you can. But, I think it's a mistake not using any available help available to you."

"You didn't when your father offered to help."

"That's different!" Sirius snapped. "Unlike my father, Dumbledore is a good man, and although he may not act like it sometimes, he does care about you deeply." Harry had jumped when Sirius snapped at him, the hairs on his arms rising to create a series of goosebumps across his arms and legs. Sirius sighed and put his hand on his forehead. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to yell."

"Its fine," Harry mumbled.

Sirius stayed silent for a few minutes, before nodding to himself. "If you want to try and work out what happened, I would say you should use the Black library. We've got books dating back generations, if there's an answer to be had, my first choice of information to look would be in there."

Harry smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Sirius."

Sirius smiled back a bit sadly, "anytime, Harry. You'll always have an ally in me." He leapt to his feet suddenly and clapped his hands together. "Right, Harry, if you're serious about looking, then there's a few hours left before you should get some sleep. Go start looking while I clean up down here, when it's time for you to go sleep I'll come fetch you."

Harry spent the next few days in the library, only leaving to eat with Sirius before returning back. As the days went by, the stacks of books on the desk grew higher and higher with every one read from cover to cover. Sirius occasionally joined Harry, the two of them reading silently books of their own choice before inevitably Sirius would leave out of boredom.

It wasn't until the fifth day that Harry finally found some success. The book had originally been innocuous, hidden in the corner of a bookshelf hidden by its size amongst other bulkier books. It had no title, except inside of the book. Harry's heart leapt when he first read its title, '_Of Magica and The Gods."_

Harry spent hours reading it over and over. It was less than twenty pages long, but the information inside offered a clue to what had happened to Harry. Grabbing the book from the table, he ran out of the library to find Sirius, eager to share the information he had learned with him.

He found Sirius in a room surrounded by nothing but total luxury. A large humanoid head looked down upon the intruders from above a fireplace, a snarl on its long dead lips as it growled its defiance to the last. The floor was totally covered in a thick red carpet. Sirius was sat in a large chair behind a desk, reading a newspaper with a frown upon his face. When Harry entered, he quickly hid the newspaper underneath the desk and turned to Harry with a startled expression on his face.

"I think I've found something!"

_Of Magica and The Gods_

_I was present during the campaign to subdue Kemet during the reign of __Nebkheperure IV against the rebels who sought to abandon the Empire. During that short, but bloody conflict, I was present in the court of Nebkheperure to record the campaign and to detail the destruction of the rebels. Until the end of that bloody rebellion, I did what I was tasked to do so, at least until when the battle reached the ancient tomb of Chione, an ruler of the Kemet who died some five hundred years prior to the reign of the Great Nebkheperune. There, we faced the bloodiest of the fighting. It was there that we faced one of the greatest threats, an earth elemental whose magics split the earth and revealed to the world the tomb of Chione._

_My master, ever curious for knowledge and ancient spells, chose to lead his bodyguards and a few of his court into the tomb, amongst which I was present. We faced many traps, and by the time we found the tomb itself, scarcely more than a dozen survived. While my master entered the tomb, I chose to remain in the entrance where I was tasked to record the images on the wall for the scholars to later investigate. It was there that I learned the origin to the question which many have longed looked for, the origin of magic itself._

_According to the writings, twelve men and women were selected from the ancient tribes of humanity to be blessed by the Gods with a special power. From the descendants of those twelve men and women came what we know today as magic. The descendants of the twelve soon spread across the known world. However, the descendants fell into infighting over what the true path of magica was, a conflict which has consumed Wizardkind for centuries._

_This, and much more could have been learned had I more time. Before I could finish learning the origin of magic, I was interrupted by the return of my master…and something else chasing him. His bodyguard were all dead, only I and he remained alive, and had we not fled, not even we would have escaped. Whatever was chasing my master, he never confided in me, but upon return to the surface, against my arguments he ordered the tomb to be forever closed, and its location to be forgotten._

_I am but an old man now, and my master is long dead and resting in his own tomb. I have not long to live, and can thus die without fear of punishment for breaking the laws of my master. Should my writings ever reach another, I beg you, find the tomb and the truth, let the answer to our origins be answered at long last._

"I don't understand, Harry, what does this have to do with the Third Task?"

"As big as your library is, Sirius, I found literally nothing that talked about Light and Dark magic that could explain what happened, so I started thinking, instead of asking what Light and Dark magic was, I decided to get into the bigger question – what is magic at its core, and what causes the separation? So to answer that question, I need to know how magic works and what causes it to split. I need to know what caused magic in the first place!"

"And you think this place…Kemet….holds the answer?"

Harry shrugged, "it's the closest thing I can find that'll answer my questions."

Sirius sighed and wiped his forehead, "you're putting me in a difficult position, Harry. Dumbledore asked me to look after you, to spend time with you and to make sure you were alright. It's dangerous out there, Harry, even more so now that Voldemort's returned. You can bet that he's already consolidating his position, both at home and abroad. Here, you'd be safe, out there…well, you're just a bigger target."

"I know, Sirius. And I don't expect you to." Harry's hand slipped beneath his robes, fingering his wand as he began to mentally prepare to stun Sirius.

"But you should!" Harry's almost jerked as Sirius leapt to his feet, walking up and down the kitchen with his hands behind his back. "I am your godfather, and quite frankly, I owe you a lot. You saved my life, if not my very soul last year. I spent most of your third year as a threat instead of a family member, and that sits uncomfortably with me. I swore to your father when you were born that I'd always be there for your family, and so far I doubt James is looking down at me happily."

"So you mean…"

Sirius turned to Harry, a broad grin on his face. "Harry, we're going to Kemet!"

Harry grinned back, the two men filled with a wild optimism.

"So…where's Kemet?"

**So, your question for the day, my wonderful readers, is where's Kemet?**


End file.
